


Missing, Douglas

by Dreaming_Spire



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 06:54:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/732701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreaming_Spire/pseuds/Dreaming_Spire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few variations on "missing" and Douglas. MJN's having a team-building exercise of sorts.<br/>Written as part of the CabinCrewRiot Two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Missing, Douglas

“It’s like he’s fallen off the earth,” Carolyn muttered. “Come on, Douglas. You’re good, but even you can’t become invisible.”  
“Maybe he can!” Arthur’s helpful interjection nearly startled her out of her skin.  
“Arthur,” she hissed, “As pleased as I am to find that you can at last out-stealth a drunken elephant, need I remind you that you need to muffle your voice as well as your footsteps?”  
“Sorry, Mum,” he stage-whispered. “But maybe he CAN become invisible.”  
“Don’t be ridiculous, Arthur. Douglas is many things, but he is not a magician.”  
“Well, maybe he’s got camouflage paint and clothing, like Carl?”  
“You mean the “camouflage” that makes Carl stand out only a little bit less than if he’d made a sign saying “Here I am?” If only we could be so lucky, Arthur.”  
“I heard that, ” rumbled a voice from somewhere near Arthur’s hip. “I’ll have you know this color was on sale.”  
“Arthur! Turn down your walkie-talkie!” Impossible! Did these people understand nothing? “And, Carl, sale camouflage means nothing, if it’s only designed to make you blend in against a wall covered in day-glo graffiti.”  
“Yeh, well, that’s what urban camo’s meant to do, isn’t it? Besides, I’m here with Captain Carrot-head – ” an indignant squeak from Martin rippled through, “so I figured at least we’d match.”  
Carolyn reached over and snapped off the volume before Martin’s protests could broadcast their whereabouts. If Douglas was nowhere to be seen, that meant he could be anywhere, or knowing Douglas, everywhere. Even on a team of one, Douglas Richardson could manage to be in multiple locations, if anyone could.  
She gritted her teeth in annoyance, and checked her clip. Satisfying as the rifle felt in her hand, it was no good if she didn’t get to actually fire the thing.  
\--------------------  
“Shut it, Captain,” Carl snapped, turning to his teammate. “Or do you want Richardson to paint you up so much we ought to hang you in the Louvre?”  
“Well, I’m sorry, but I do technically outrank you,” Martin complained.  
“Not out here, you don’t. If you’re a captain, then I’m the bloody general, got it? Especially since we’re using MY equipment.”  
Martin rolled his eyes. “Yes, because you’ve got a miniature armory. Who on earth plays paintball this much?”  
“Me and my mates have a league. Now, quiet!” Carl lifted his gun and peered into the scope. “If you think for a minute I’m going to let your first officer get one over on me, think again.”  
Martin opened his mouth to reply, but yelped instead, as a pellet splattered the tree next to him. Several more coated the nearby plantlife, as Martin dove to the ground.  
“Lucky his aim’s crap, then. Let me tell you, those things can sting like you wouldn’t believe, ‘specially in the head or the goolies. Wouldn’t put it past him to aim for the meat and veg.” Carl patted his ammo satchel. “I plan to get him before he gets me.”  
“Stay down,” Martin said. “Look, I know Douglas. If he missed, he missed on purpose. He’s trying to draw us out. He’ll get both of us at once – he’s got us trapped like rats!”  
“Does he, now?” Carl glared. “Get up, then, and let’s go out fighting. If I see him, I’ll Jackson Pollock him like you wouldn’t believe.”  
“Uh, hello, chaps.” Arthur’s voice crackled over the walkie-talkie. “Sorry about that.”  
“Friendly fire? Oh, that’s just great! If we’re going that way, mate, you’d better prepare.”  
“Carl!” Martin said, “This is paintball, not _Apocalypse Now_! It’s a game, remember?” Since his teammate seemed to be becoming rapidly unhinged, Martin resisted adding “I told you Douglas wouldn’t miss.”  
\-----------------------  
Douglas blinked as he woke up. A nice, refreshing nap was one of life’s little pleasures, even if one had to tuck oneself away in one’s car to enjoy a bit of rest. He yawned, and decided it was about time to return to the battlefield, such as it was.  
He picked up the paintball rifle – silly thing – and looked about before getting out of the car. Although he was positive nobody would think to look for him out here, he was still one man against four, (well, three and Carolyn) so there was nothing wrong with exercising a bit of caution.  
No, his opponents were nowhere to be seen – or heard, in Arthur’s case. They ought to have had enough time to run themselves silly, and now it would be a simple matter to track them down, the hunted becoming the hunter.  
Briefly, he wondered which team to track first. There’d been a gleam in Carl’s eye that he didn’t quite like, and the man was the more experienced paintballer, but Carolyn was dangerous at the best of times, and now she was armed and ready. Well, he had time to decide. He checked his watch.  
Wait, was that the time? His nap had turned into a four-hour snooze – the game was supposed to be over forty minutes ago! He’d missed the whole thing!  
Well, a default victory was better than the alternative, he supposed. Still, it would have been nice to practice his painting skills. He strolled off towards the portacabin, gun in hand

**Author's Note:**

> This was partially inspired by the Peep Show and Community paintball episodes, which are, in a word, BRILLIANT. Bonus points to anyone who can guess who's the inspiration for Carl-in-camo.


End file.
